


nothing can keep me from loving you

by starlightwalking



Series: the wondrous parts of you and I [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Family Drama, Finwean family drama, M/M, Valinor, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28707921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: In the wake of his father's unreasonable behavior, Maitimo flees to Findekáno's side, only to find Findekáno just as upset as he is.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: the wondrous parts of you and I [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979144
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	nothing can keep me from loving you

**Author's Note:**

> Set directly after the Sword Incident.  
> Angst ahead ;)
> 
> ETA: title from "Not Alone" from A Very Potter Musical

Maitimo wept as he rushed to his uncle’s house. He didn’t care who saw him—no, he _did_ , if someone told his father things would only get _worse_ —but he cared not for his reputation, only for what he was on the brink of losing.

“Maitimo?” exclaimed Anairë, no small amount of suspicion in her voice. But Maitimo could not stop his weeping even to explain himself, and soon her wariness gave way to concern. She ushered him inside, closing the door behind him, shooing away glaring Turukáno and seething Írissë and trembling Arakáno. Yet Findekáno, his Finno, was nowhere to be found.

Nor was Nolofinwë. That, at least, was a relief.

“Maitimo,” Anairë said, sitting him down on a sofa, “I am...surprised to see you here. I would have thought—”

She broke off, pursing her lips. Maitimo barely noticed. His tears had dried up, but he was still sniffling, and his mind was all jumbled.

“Are you here for Findekáno?” she asked.

Maitimo swallowed. “Yes,” he whispered. “I—I need to see him.”

Anairë sighed. “He is out with his father at the moment,” she said, fixing him with a calculating eye. “No doubt discussing the same thing that has sent you here in tears.”

“Nolofinwë...he wouldn’t—” Maitimo bit his lip. Before today, he’d thought his own father wouldn’t, either.

“My husband is more similar to his brother than either of them would like to admit,” Anairë said. “You are a kind soul, Maitimo, but we all know you are still your father’s son. Whatever Ñolofinwë decides, I will stand with him.”

He felt the tears coming on again, but _no_. He would not cry, not now, not in front of Anairë, who ought to be his law-mother in only a few short months...

“Please,” he whispered. “I need to see him. I need to speak with him. _Please_.”

“I will not keep you from him,” Anairë said. “But Ñolofinwë must not see you here. Come; you know the way to Findekáno’s rooms. Wait for him there. I will send a maid with some tea, and my son, when he arrives.”

* * *

The hour before Findekáno returned was excruciating. Maitimo played the conversation with his father over and over again in his mind, and the incident before it, wondering what had gone so _terribly_ wrong, what he could have done to stop it, to fix it, what he still _could_ do—

And the cold practicality from Anairë shook him, too. If even she, who was so kind and diplomatic, was reacting badly to this...would Finno, who took after his mother greatly, spurn him just the same?

He couldn’t bring himself to drink the tea. When at last he had driven himself half-mad with worry and took a small sip, it had gone cold.

At last the door opened. Maitimo shot to his feet, nearly knocking the teacup over.

Findekáno stared at him, eyes wide. He glanced back into the hallway, closed the door quietly, then leaned against it like he would fall over without it.

“Finno,” Maitimo croaked.

“What are you doing here,” Findekáno said flatly, his voice soft.

“I—” Maitimo shuddered. This coolness, this distance, hurt more than his father’s fury. “I needed to see you. After—”

“How did...nevermind.” Findekáno shook his head. “Ammë must have let you in. But _why_? What in all of Arda—what makes you think I want to see you, after what your f—”

Maitimo couldn’t hold back his weeping any longer. He swallowed back a sob, but tears flowed freely down his cheeks. He didn’t make an attempt to wipe them away; he could hide nothing from Findekáno.

“Finno, I—” he choked out— “he won’t let me, he won’t let us—Finno, he says I cannot be the son of Fëanáro and the husband of a Nolofinwion in the same breath.”

Findekáno went quiet. He closed his eyes. “I see.”

“Finno, he wants me to go with him into exile, he—” Maitimo took a shuddering breath. “He says no son of his would stay here in Tirion, he says—”

At this Findekáno started, his eyes flying open. “He would...disown you?”

“I do not know if he would actually...” Maitimo clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling more helpless than he had ever been in his life. “But he is so _angry_ , Finno, and for good reason—”

That was the wrong thing to say, he knew that immediately. Findekáno’s eyes flashed, and he drew himself up to his full height, and though he was nowhere near as tall as Maitimo himself, the righteous anger with which he held himself had Maitimo cowering back.

“Do you truly believe that _my father_ —” Findekáno hissed.

“No!” Maitimo cried, _that wasn’t what he meant_ , and even if it had been, he admired Nolofinwë, even loved him, enough to join himself to his house gladly, but damn it that was the _problem_ , wasn’t it? He jumped to another argument, hoping desperately that Finno would know what he meant: “But the Valar—”

Findekáno turned away. “I see,” he said again, his tone brutally neutral, and Maitimo cursed himself, remembering too late Anairë’s veneration for the Valar, her service to Nessa, her children’s amilessi and their connection to a Vala. _Astaldo_ , Findekáno was, not only for his personal valour, but after Tulkas also.

Maitimo fell to his knees. He knew not what else to do. He _couldn’t_ lose Findekáno.

“Finno, I...I love you,” he whispered. “I don’t want to go. I want to, to fix things, but he won’t see reason, not now.” He took a breath. “If I go with him...maybe I can talk him down, maybe I can—he’s my _father_ , Finno, he’s...I can’t abandon him, or my brothers, not after my mother, I can’t—and I’m the oldest, I’m responsible.”

“Then go,” Findekáno said, still not looking at him. “Family is important.”

Maitimo flinched. “Finno? I...this isn’t about _you_ —”

“ _Isn’t_ it?” Now Findekáno turned to face him, and Maitimo almost wished he hadn’t, so great was the fury in those sapphire eyes.

“No!” Maitimo protested instinctively, but it _was_ , it always had been. “Well—yes, it is. But—but that is why I am so _torn_ , because—I love you so much—” A sob wrenched its way out of his chest; he felt weak, so very weak, why could he not simply choose one or the other? Why must he feel torn in two?

“My father wants me to break off our engagement,” he cried, “to forswear you—but I told him I _will not_. He is furious—he will not speak to me unless I come to give him an apology, a declaration of utter loyalty...”

He bowed his head, wishing he truly believed what he said: “This is not who he is, Finno. I love my father, he’s—he’s intense, yes, but something is _wrong_. If I abandon him now, it will only get worse...I can—I can fix it—”

“Of course,” Findekáno said softly, still so cold it _hurt_.

“Finno, please!” Maitimo wept. “I cannot lose you too!”

For a long, terrible moment, Findekáno was silent. Then he said, “My father told me the same.”

Maitimo stared, not comprehending. “What?”

“My father told me to end our betrothal.”

“ _What?_ ”

Rage overcame him suddenly, that Nolofinwë would _dare_ —that he would take Findekáno away from him, that he would—but had not Fëanáro done exactly that? Had not it been Fëanáro they had worried about, back when they cared to ask permission?

Findekáno let out a cruel burst of laughter. “You think you are the only one in pain?” he demanded. “The only one with a father who is beyond reason? Oh, yes, before all Tirion my father can control himself, present himself as the reasonable one—and he _is_ , compared to Fëanáro—but he is furious, Russandol! Furious!”

Maitimo’s heart skipped a beat to hear that beloved name from his beloved’s lips. It was the first time Findekáno had addressed him as such since the beginning of the conversation.

“In public he will swear fealty to your father,” Findekáno ranted, “and accept his apology should he _deign_ to give it—and he truly does not want your father _gone_ , nor to take his place—but Fëanáro tried to _kill_ him! Of course he is angry! And so am I! If you—If you think what Fëanáro did to be right, to be just, I do not...I _cannot_ continue as we have, Russo. I simply cannot.”

The air rushed from Maitimo’s lungs. If Finno no longer loved him—

“Finno,” he rasped, pleading.

“Speak not!” Findekáno snapped. “Unless it is words of apology!”

Apology. Everyone wanted an apology from him, and what had Maitimo done wrong? He had not stood with his father in his madness, and for that he was at fault with Fëanáro; he had not spoken against his father’s madness, and for that he was at fault with Findekáno! He had done _nothing_ , and it was that which made him revile himself, for he had not the strength of will to make a decision and stand by it.

But now, facing the loss of Findekáno’s love—Maitimo knew he had to decide.

“Findekáno,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Findekáno sighed. “That, I do not doubt,” he admitted. “But do you love the son of Ñolofinwë? Or do you love the nér who pledged to join himself to the House of Fëanáro?”

Maitimo stared. Was that—was that all Findekáno thought he meant to Maitimo? How long had he believed that?

“I love _you_ ,” Maitimo said passionately, stumbling back to his feet and reaching out to grasp Findekáno’s hands. Findekáno let him, but did not grasp back. “Finno, I...for you I would defy my father. I am in defiance of my father even being here. For you I would lose all my family—Finno, you _are_ my family.”

He trembled with the effort of the words; such a proclamation was not easy. He loved his father and his brothers, he loved them dearly—but if they would force him to abandon Findekáno, he would be forced to abandon them. It was not _right_ to come between their love, and Maitimo still remembered how Findekáno’s eyes danced with stars the night they first kissed. He could not lose that joy, that warmth, that love, not for anything.

“We—” His voice cracked. “As husbands, we would create our own home, our own House... I love you, Finno, I would do _anything_ for you. I—thought you felt the same.”

Now Findekáno was weeping, too, and Maitimo had not thought he could be more heartbroken than he was already, but seeing his Finno in such misery brought him there.

“I thought I did, too,” Findekáno whispered. “I could love the son of Fëanáro, if he could love me as I am. But if he will only take part of me...”

Matiimo shook his head, eyes blinded with tears. “I would have _all_ of you,” he vowed, “all that you would give. If—” He hiccuped. “What my father did was _wrong_ , Finno. If I must choose either him or you, I will choose you, every time. But I do not...I do not _want_ to, not if there is another way.”

“Oh, _Russo_.” And now Findekáno fell into his arms, clutching him close, and some of the anguish in Maitimo’s heart eased to feel him where he belonged, tucked under Maitimo’s chin. Maitimo clung to him, cradling him, never wanting to let him go again.

“Oh, Russo,” Findekáno wept. “I am so sorry, I never should have doubted you or your love, I...I love you.” He tilted his head up for a kiss, which Maitimo granted him gladly, tasting their mingled tears on his lips. “I would choose you, too, over anything. My heart despairs at the thought of losing you.”

“Never,” Maitimo promised, and he meant it. “I will not let that happen. I do not care what...what happens, I _will not_ lose you. _Nothing_ can keep me from loving you.”

Findekáno kissed him, and Maitimo kissed back fiercely. They toppled back into Findekáno’s bed and Maitimo tangled his hands in his beloved’s hair, letting the bliss of having him so near overwhelm the horrors of the day.

After long Maitimo’s face was flushed, his limbs trembling, and he realized with deep embarrassment that he was growing hard. He couldn’t—they weren’t there yet, he couldn’t let Findekáno know. He released his beloved and rolled over slightly, and Finno sighed, snuggling up next to him and resting his head on Maitimo’s chest.

“My father would take you in,” Findekáno murmured, his voice a little rough from all the weeping. “If yours cast you out. If you defy Fëanáro, he would accept you, I know it.”

“Finno...” Maitimo closed his eyes, playing with a loose ribbon in Findekáno’s hair, his betrothal gift. “If that is what must happen, I will do it. But... _surely_ there is another way.”

Findekáno kissed his neck softly. “I just want you to know that you have a place here, if you so choose.”

“You want me to love you as the son of Nolofinwë,” Maitimo said desperately. “Is it so wrong that I want you to love me as the son of Fëanáro?”

There was a brief silence, in which Maitimo thought he had pushed too far. After Fëanáro drew a sword on Nolofinwë, maybe it _was_ too far to claim association with his father. Maitimo felt so _weak_ , wavering in his decisions, wanting everything and feeling it all slip out of his grasp.

But: “No,” Findekáno said at last. “No, that is only just. That is who you are. That is who I love.”

Maitimo felt another tear trace its way down his cheek. “If I leave him for your father’s house, he will never forgive me,” he whispered. “It would be the ultimate betrayal. And—I do not know if even Haru could talk him down without me. I do not want our families to be forever at odds. If I can fix this—it would be for _us_ , Finno.”

“Yes,” Findekáno said in a small voice. “Yes, that makes sense. I just...I cannot bear to lose you, Russo, even for a time. When I was angry, earlier—I felt as if I were breaking into pieces at the thought. But...do not ask me to come with you—”

“I would not,” Maitimo assured, “that would...” He grimaced. “It would only make things worse.

“Then what should we _do_?” Findekáno cried, sitting up and hitting his pillow with a closed fist. “I am in despair, Russandol! I will not end things with you, not for anything, not if you still love me—”

“Always,” Maitimo growled, pressing him back down and peppering his face, his throat, his chest with kisses. “ _Always_. Never, ever doubt that, my love.”

“—but I do not know how to keep you, and yet fix this feud,” Findekáno lamented.

“We could...no.” Maitimo shook his head, dismissing the thought even as it came to him. “Nevermind.”

“What?” Findekáno demanded, prodding him lightly in the chest. “Any idea, anything, I want to hear it.”

“It would not be fair,” Maitimo insisted, “not to you...not to me—”

“Tell me,” Findekáno said firmly. “Let me decide what is and isn’t fair to me.”

Maitimo blew a strand of hair out of his face. “We could...pretend we have forsworn one another,” he said with great reluctance, hating the idea more with every second. “We could pretend to go along with our fathers, and in that we regain their trust. We could...” He grimaced. “We could work on them, calm them down, and in a year...”

“Or twelve,” Findekáno muttered.

Maitimo tried not to let the judgement of the Valar fill him with more despair than he carried already. “I hope it would not be that long,” he said, “but if...if we must be together in secret, again...” He kissed Findekáno’s eyelids gently. “I could sacrifice that, if it means fixing this mess. If it means I could marry you eventually. I would wait for that, if it meant I would not lose you forever.”

“I don’t like it,” Findekáno admitted. “But—it might be the only option.” He shifted, nipping lightly at Maitimo’s ear in a way that made him shiver and moan. “Unless you want to marry me now,” he teased, “and force them to see reason that way.”

Maitimo could not deny that proposition was tempting, but he knew it to be unwise. “Valar,” he grumbled. “That would only make it so _neither_ of us has a father!”

Findekáno sighed. “You may be right,” he said. “And...it would be cruel to make you choose me over your father.”

“I would do it,” Maitimo rasped, and he knew he meant it, now.

“But I would not wish such pain upon my husband, not if there is another way.” Findekáno smiled, and Maitimo’s heart flooded with warmth. _Husband._ Oh, how he wanted that, to be Findekáno’s husband, to have Findekáno for his own; he knew now that it would be a longer wait than they had before thought, but if he would have that eventually...the waiting would be worth it.

“Finno, I...” He did not deserve such grace and understanding, he did not deserve Findekáno—but he knew Finno wouldn’t like him thinking like that. “Thank you,” he said instead. “I love you. Never doubt that.”

Findekáno kissed him, slow and deep, like they had all the time in Arda—and they _would_ , eventually, once all this was over.

“I will not forget it,” Finno promised. “Never again, melindo. I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](https://arofili.tumblr.com/).


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